


Little Stars

by Pyracantha



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, M/M, No Beta, Prompt - In The Beginning, Prompt Fic, Shakespeare Quotations, Short & Sweet, We fall like Crowley, Yet Another Church Scene fic, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha
Summary: It’s as if he can’t catch his breath. He feels lightheaded but also as if things have been made crystal clear. Every detail he can see is sharp and he knows he’ll never be able to forget the texture of the handle of the bag, the smell of the leather seats in the car, the sound of the church settling as it fell.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 44





	Little Stars

**Author's Note:**

> or Yet ANOTHER Church Scene fic but I wrote it and I want to post it so here you go. :)
> 
> Quotes are from (in order) Romeo & Juliet, Hamlet, & Much Ado About Nothing

It’s still raining dust. Particles in his hair, on his hand, on his coat. He can’t seem to move. He hears Crowley faintly through the ringing in his head. 

“Lift home?”

He sees Crowley striding towards his car and follows in a daze. He can’t seem to string two thoughts together as he climbs in the car. His grip on the bag of books is strangled. His hand still feels hot where it brushed Crowley’s as he’d handed him the bag. Azriaphale risks a glance at Crowley’s profile as he drives. It’s as if he can’t catch his breath. He feels lightheaded but also as if things have been made crystal clear. Every detail he can see is sharp and he knows he’ll never be able to forget the texture of the handle of the bag, the smell of the leather seats in the car, the sound of the church settling as it fell. 

He can still see Crowley in front of him in the bubble of safety Aziraphale had manifested like an afterimage from lightning. Crowley had looked deep into his eyes. Aziraphale could tell, even behind those dark lenses. It was as if he was seeing into the angel’s very essence. It had just been a moment but it had taken his breath away. Then they were outside and the “little demonic miracle of my own” had put his brain into overdrive. Realizations don’t usually come at the detonation of a bomb but here he is, realizing. 

“Are you alright? You haven’t said a word.” Crowley glances at him in concern. 

“Oh I’m, um, yes. Yes I’m fine.” Aziraphale stammers. He can feel himself blushing. 

It’s as if a string has been cut on a package that had been barely held together. Aziraphale is a being of love and it’s like a river pouring out of him. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s saved from an immediate action by the car coming to a stop. 

“Here we are, angel.” Crowley looks at him again. His face is still gently concerned. 

“Yes, here we are.” Aziraphale’s normal extensive vocabulary seems to have deserted him. He gropes for some words, any words. 

“Would you…” he takes a deep breath and starts again. “Would you like to come inside?”

Crowley raises his eyebrow and smiles almost quizzically. “OK angel. Sure you’re alright?” 

Aziraphale nods and steadies himself as he climbs out of the car. He lets out a breath he’s been holding and decisively starts for the door of the bookshop. This night is one he wants to savor. As they reach the door he turns to Crowley, really looks at him. A piece of Shakespeare comes to him as he stares “When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

“Are you going to unlock it?” Crowley gestures to the door. 

“Oh yes, here.” Aziraphale unlocks the door and ushers Crowley inside. 

He drops the bag of books by the door and hangs his coat up. As they make their way to the back room he watches as Crowley sprawls on the sofa just as though he’d never left. Aziraphale decides to stop thinking and just goes to the liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle. He grabs two glasses as he walks towards the couch. Instead of his regular arm chair he sits next to Crowley on the sofa. The demon looks at him in surprise as Aziraphale moves close, sitting right next to him. He pours the single malt in silence. 

The angel hands him a glass and then picks up his own. He cradles the glass and then takes a large drink. Crowley is quiet, watching him warily. They sit that way for a few minutes, no conversation, the air between them begins to feel charged. Crowley finishes his drink and is about to ask the angel to pass him the bottle when Aziraphale kisses him. Crowley drops his empty glass and it bounces on the carpet, rolling under the sofa. Aziraphale brings one hand up to gently cup Crowley’s face. He makes a small sound, almost a whine as the angel breaks away. 

Another quote comes to him as his thumb caresses Crowley’s cheek. 

“We know what we are, not what we may be.” he whispers. 

Crowley makes a strangled noise, clears his throat and says quietly, “Angel you know I prefer the funny ones.” 

Aziraphale leans back and laughs. It’s a heavenly sound and Crowley grins widely at him. He takes off his glasses and then pulls the angel back into his arms. They lean their foreheads together and Aziraphale basks in the unabashed love he sees in Crowley’s beautiful eyes. 

“Then here, love,” He quotes, “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.” and Crowley laughs and kisses him. 

And so the night goes, single malt, confessions, kisses, and love, so much love they hardly know how to contain it. The morning comes too soon, but as the new day dawns they know this, it’s a promise, a pledge, a new beginning.


End file.
